


Bring the Bitter Taste to a Halt

by GreyMichaela



Series: Sweetener [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: A little light bondage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual, I'm supposed to be writing a speech, It's just filth, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Tears, and instead I wrote porn, literally the story of my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: Jamie focuses on the way Tyler feels, the long line of his throat, his hair spread out on the pillow beneath his head. His eyes are closed, lids delicate and blue-veined. His mouth is slack, half-open and so sweet, and he’s utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful, so much more fragile than he lets on. Jamie can’t believe he’s his, that he gets to have this, that he’s this lucky.





	Bring the Bitter Taste to a Halt

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: this is a fictional story about real people. If you or someone you know are in this story, do us all a favor and back on up outta here. (Jamie, you're welcome to call me though.)

Tyler lives life fast. He talks fast, drives fast, skates fast. He makes Jamie feel slow by comparison, even though he knows he’s not. Not really. But when he’s faced with Tyler’s mercurial whiplash moods, he feels heavy and plodding, unable to keep up.

It’s no surprise, really, that Tyler likes it hard and fast in bed too. It’s a race to the finish line with him, first one to get off wins. And it’s not like Jamie _minds,_ not as such. Orgasms are orgasms, after all. Even bad sex is still sex, and sex with Tyler is never bad.

But sometimes—sometimes Jamie just wants to slow down. Take his time, make Tyler sweat and beg and lose his mind a little.

He tries. He really does. He keeps Tyler’s hands above the waist, kissing him slow and leisurely and exploring Tyler’s mouth. He dallies with Tyler’s body, his lips light and soft and no force behind them as he noses along Tyler’s jaw or chest.

Tyler… tolerates it. But Jamie knows him, and he always knows exactly when Tyler goes from amused patience to wanting to move it along. It usually ends with Tyler flipping Jamie, pinning him down and aggressively torturing him until Jamie loses his head and fucks him, which is always Tyler’s goal.

And Jamie loves that. He does. Loves the way Tyler practically dares Jamie to do more, move faster, fuck him harder. He loves the taut lines of Tyler’s body as he demands everything Jamie can give him, the sleek ripple of muscle under satin skin when he throws his head back on a particularly hard thrust.

Jamie loves Tyler. He loves to give him what he wants. But sometimes, Jamie wants something for himself.

He gets the idea one day while he’s at the mall—with Tyler, of course. A young woman saunters by, dressed in black from head to toe. She gives him a saucy wink when he catches her eye, but Jamie’s more interested in the wide leather cuffs on her wrists and the D-rings spanning them at regular intervals.

He thinks about those cuffs for a long time, and then he starts making some discreet inquiries.

 

It takes him awhile to put his plan into motion. He has to pick a day when they don’t have an upcoming game, just in case things get out of hand. And he has to wait for what he’s ordered to arrive and then figure out exactly how to put it all together. He has to do all this without Tyler suspecting anything, and Tyler’s not an idiot. He’ll know Jamie’s up to something the second he looks him in the eyes.

So Jamie makes up excuses for why they can’t hang out while he puts everything together, claiming exhaustion or simply being too busy every time Tyler wants to come over.

He’s so wrapped up in making sure everything’s perfect that he doesn’t realize he’s neglecting Tyler soon enough. Not until he’s in his bedroom one evening, working on the headboard, when there’s a banging on his door.

Jamie is startled—no one he loves knocks, and strangers would have to get through security and several sets of gates.

He opens the door to see Tyler, looking rumpled and miserable. There are dark smudges like bruises under his eyes and his hair is sticking out every which way from under his backwards snapback.

“Hey!” Jamie says. “What—why’d you knock?”

“Are you tired of me?” Tyler says.

Jamie feels like the wind’s been knocked from him. He clutches the door and gapes at Tyler, who lifts his chin and waits for the answer, but Jamie _knows_ him, can read him like a book, sees the terror that trembles in Tyler’s muscles and the way he’s poised to flee.

He knows he has a matter of seconds before Tyler’s nerve breaks and he runs. So Jamie grabs his wrist before that happens and pulls him over the threshold, slamming the door behind them.

“I love you,” he says, willing Tyler to believe him. “A _stupid_ amount, honestly. I will never be tired of you. Ever.”

Tyler blinks rapidly, throat working. “Then why—”

Jamie cuts him off with a kiss, deep and filthy, pulling him close. Tyler stiffens and then kisses him back with something like desperation. Jamie walks backward, steering them toward the bedroom. Tyler stumbles along, clutching at him, and doesn’t seem to register where they are until Jamie takes a step away, once they’re inside. He blinks, and then his eyes catch on the headboard and they go wide.

“We don’t have to,” Jamie says quietly, skimming a hand down Tyler’s spine.

Tyler doesn’t answer, looking at the wide black leather cuffs hanging from the headboard on six inch ropes. His mouth works silently and he looks up at Jamie.

Jamie holds very still, not wanting to spook him more.

“This—you want this?” Tyler finally says.

“Only if you do,” Jamie says immediately. He’s not sure how to read the expression on Tyler’s face. There’s interest there, but also wariness, some hesitation. “We don’t have to,” Jamie repeats. It’s important that Tyler understands this, that he’s not going to be pressured into anything.

“What’s the idea?” Tyler asks. He takes a step closer to the bed, bends to pick up one of the cuffs and inspect it.

“You in the cuffs.” Jamie’s watching Tyler’s face closely. “If you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Tyler says without a second of hesitation. “I just—didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

“I don’t know that I am,” Jamie admits. “But I thought it could be fun to try.”

“You already getting bored with our sex life, Chubbs?” Tyler asks, and Jamie is slapped with relief so intense it’s dizzying, because Tyler’s teasing him, Tyler’s _smiling_ at him.

He can’t think of a witty response, so he settles for closing the gap between them and kissing him again. Tyler smiles into it, bites Jamie’s lower lip, and oh, it’s _on._

Jamie pulls away, breathing gone rough. “Do you need a safeword?” he asks, and his voice has gone all gravelly and deep.

Tyler’s eyes widen and he leans toward him as if unaware he’s doing it. “I—no,” he manages. “Just… I mean, if I say stop, you’ll stop, right?”

“If that’s what you want,” Jamie says. “I’m not going to hurt you, in any case.” Is it his imagination or is that a flicker of disappointment on Tyler’s face? Intrigued, Jamie files that away for further investigation in the future.

He lifts Tyler’s hat off, leaving him even more rumpled, then drops his hands to the hem of Tyler’s shirt, waiting for permission. Tyler immediately lifts his arms so Jamie can strip it off him.

It’s not like Jamie doesn’t see this all the time—Tyler seems to be allergic to shirts in general, so by all rights, Jamie should be inured to the sight of his abs by now, he thinks. That’s not the case. He runs a finger over the ridges of muscle, tracing the Stanley Cup tattoo on his side and making Tyler shiver.

His skin is so soft, and Jamie is seized by a sudden fierce urge to mark it up, suck bruises into it, _claim_ him. He skims a faint purple shadow on Tyler’s ribs, a remnant from being checked into the boards, and wonders what Tyler would do if he pressed into it.

Tyler’s reaching for his pants, fumbling with the belt, and Jamie slaps his hands away. He doesn’t miss the way Tyler’s breath catches at that, but he doesn’t say anything. He just unbuckles Tyler’s belt himself, watching his face as he pops the button free and drags the zipper down.

Tyler’s eyes are wide, a flush crawling up his neck. He licks his lips, swaying slightly toward Jamie, who steadies him with a hand on his arm.

“Alright?” he breathes.

Tyler nods. Jamie eases his pants down and frees Tyler’s erection. It’s already heavy and full, flushed pink and a bead of pre-come pearling at the tip. Jamie can’t help cupping a hand around it, thumbing over the head and smearing the liquid into Tyler’s skin. Tyler shivers all over, eyelids drooping, and rolls his hips forward.

Jamie immediately lets go and Tyler’s eyes snap open.

“Hey,” he protests.

“Get on the bed,” Jamie orders.

Tyler scowls but obeys. He settles on his back in the middle of the pillows and arches one eyebrow at Jamie, spreading his legs. He’s obscene, filthy and delicious and everything Jamie had never never let himself want before. Jamie is already so hard he aches with it, but he doesn’t touch himself or even take off his clothes. Instead he bends and picks up the cuff, holding out his free hand for Tyler’s wrist.

Tyler gives it to him, fingers flexing as Jamie straps the cuff in place. Soft sheepskin pads the inside of it to protect Tyler’s skin, and Jamie checks and double-checks the fit until Tyler hisses with impatience and pulls.

“It’s fine,” he snaps. “Come on.”

Jamie doesn’t bother challenging that. He just goes around to the other side of the bed and takes Tyler’s other wrist. He buckles the cuff in place, makes sure it’s snug but not cutting off his blood flow, and then steps back.

Tyler stares up at him, arms spread and legs open, his cock flushed dark pink now and leaking steadily. He already looks debauched and desperate, and all they’ve done is kiss a little.

Jamie takes another step back. “Try to get free.”

Tyler blinks, then pulls. He pulls again, twists, muscles standing out as he throws his weight into it. The headboard creaks, but Jamie did a thorough job—the cuffs hold.

Finally Tyler sags, panting. “Happy?”

“Getting there,” Jamie admits. He adjusts himself absently through his pants to relieve the worst of the pressure, and Tyler follows the movement of his hand, tongue darting out over his lower lip.

“Can we get on with it?” he whines.

Jamie smiles, and he knows it’s dark and wicked, knows it’s full of everything he wants but has never admitted to. He knows Tyler sees it, too, from the way his eyes go wide and his lips part.

“You drive me _crazy,”_ Jamie says. He pulls the bedside drawer open and rummages in it for the lube. They haven’t used condoms for a while, and Jamie is glad of that. He doesn’t want anything between him and everything Tyler has to give him.

He tosses the lube on the bed next to Tyler’s hip and then goes around the end and stands in front of the footboard, just looking.

Tyler tugs on the cuffs again, tongue poking out between his teeth. “Jamie,” he says, and there’s a hint of pleading in his voice. “Come _on.”_

Jamie doesn’t move, looking his fill. He loves Tyler’s long, lean legs, his bony feet with their oddly graceful arches. Tyler’s abs are indeed a gift, but the rest of him is gorgeous too, ropy muscle and satin skin.

Tyler smacks his head against the pillow. “Goddammit,” he says. “You’re killing me, Jameson, get the fuck _on_ with it.”

Despite the frustration in his voice, he seems to be harder than ever, cock darkening and leaking in heavier drops onto his belly. Jamie is reassured by that, the visceral knowledge that Tyler might be complaining but he’s definitely into this, he wants this.

He clambers onto the bed and settles himself between Tyler’s feet. Tyler narrows his eyes and tries to hook a foot around his hip, pull him closer, but Jamie avoids him easily, not bothering to fight the grin.

Tyler kicks at him half-heartedly and Jamie laughs out loud and pins Tyler’s leg to the mattress.

“You’re such a shit,” he says, knowing affection is bleeding into his voice. He strokes the bony shell of Tyler’s knee, runs his fingers down through the soft, curling hairs along his shin, and squeezes the muscle of his calf. Tyler twitches when Jamie dips behind his knee but he doesn’t say anything.

Jamie switches to Tyler’s other leg, palms flat against the heavy muscle of Tyler’s thigh, exploring every inch of it thoroughly, all the way down to his toes.

“If you play This Little Piggy I swear to god I’m breaking up with you,” Tyler threatens, and Jamie folds forward and laughs, helplessly fond. He can feel Tyler’s stomach shaking as he laughs too, and Jamie presses a kiss to his abdomen.

Tyler’s laugh hitches and his stomach tightens.

Jamie sits up on his knees between Tyler’s legs.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” Tyler complains, nudging him with a toe. “This doesn’t feel very fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” Jamie counters. He resettles his weight and begins to explore again—this time with his mouth. Tyler giggles when Jamie kisses his knee, twitches away when Jamie tries to rub his cheek on the back of his thigh.

“Ticklish,” he says, and Jamie huffs a laugh and concedes, turning his attention to his stomach.

Tyler pulls on the cuffs as Jamie licks a wet path up his abs. “Fuck, Jamie—” He sounds breathless.

Jamie hums but doesn’t stop except to occasionally bite down, leaving marks that will fade soon, livid against Tyler’s pale skin. They haven’t discussed more permanent marks, but judging by the way Tyler gasps and shudders all over every time Jamie sets his teeth in his skin, that’s a discussion they’re definitely going to have soon.

He works his way up to a nipple, bracing himself on his elbows over Tyler’s body, and closes his mouth around it. Tyler bucks up against him, clearly looking for some kind of friction, and Jamie takes his weight off one arm to pin his hips down without lifting his head. He licks and nips and sucks until the nub is a rigid peak and Tyler is shaking, then moves to the other side.

“God _dammit,_ Jamie,” Tyler chokes. He writhes, but Jamie did his job well. The cuffs don’t even budge.

Jamie doesn’t hesitate. Tyler can tell him to stop any time he wants, and Jamie will. He trusts Tyler to know his limits.

“I want to touch you,” Tyler pleads.

Jamie does look up at that. Tyler’s lips are bitten red, his eyes wide. His chest heaves with rapid pants, and Jamie can’t help leaning up to kiss him.

“If I let you touch me,” he murmurs against Tyler’s mouth, “we’ll just go straight to fucking.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Tyler challenges as Jamie pulls back and sits on his heels between Tyler’s thighs again.

Jamie runs a hand up the lean muscle of one leg, smiling. “There’s so much more we could be doing,” he says. “For example, have you ever been rimmed?”

Tyler opens and closes his mouth.

“Is that a no?”

Tyler shakes his head wordlessly.

“Excellent,” Jamie declares, and grabs Tyler’s thighs, bending them so he’s effectively bent in half. _Thank God for hockey players’ flexibility,_ he thinks. “Maybe I should get another pair of cuffs for your feet,” he muses, admiring the sight of Tyler’s pink hole, twitching and fluttering as Tyler struggles not to move. “Just hold you open like this so I can use both hands properly.”

Tyler bucks _hard,_ a strangled noise ripping from his chest. His eyes are squeezed shut, face red, and he’s breathing through his nose in rapid gusts.

“Oh, you like that idea?” Jamie says. He braces his right hand on Tyler’s thigh to keep him in place and skims a finger over Tyler’s hole with the other. “You like the thought of being tied up and helpless, held open for me?”

 _“Jamie—”_ Tyler sounds wrecked.

Jamie pushes the tip of his finger inside. It’s dry and rough and he can’t get past the first knuckle without causing damage, but it’s worth it to see the way Tyler’s face twists, mouth falling open silently. Jamie pulls out, then drops his head and licks across his hole in a broad, flat swipe. He takes his time, savoring the warmth and bitter, earthy aftertaste on his tongue, pressing inside in slick, wriggling thrusts as far as he can go. He’s dimly aware of Tyler crying out, but he doesn’t stop. He wets the area thoroughly and then presses his finger back inside. It goes in much easier this time and Tyler’s noises take on a desperate edge.

It’s intoxicating, the feel and smell and taste of Tyler in his mouth, overwhelming his senses. Jamie thinks he could stay like this forever, driving Tyler to distraction with his tongue and one finger.

“Please, please,” Tyler is chanting. “Please, Jamie, _please—”_

Jamie looks up. There are tears on Tyler’s face, he realizes with a jolt, leaking steadily down his cheeks as he squirms in Jamie’s hands.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jamie asks.

“I want—to _come,”_ Tyler gasps.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Jamie says. “But if you want to come, it’s going to be like this.”

Tyler sobs out loud and turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jamie waits but Tyler doesn’t say anything else, so he goes back to work. This time he adds some lube so he can get both thumbs inside, holding Tyler open on them so he can fuck even deeper with his tongue.

He feels almost drunk with the power Tyler has conceded to him, his veins fizzing and fingers tingling. His hard-on is secondary, taking a backseat to driving Tyler steadily out of his mind. By the time he’s got three fingers inside, Tyler’s not making any sense at all, a steady stream of incoherent gibberish and broken pleas falling from his mouth as Jamie drives deep and grazes his prostate.

“Could you come like this?” he asks after a particularly hard thrust.

Tyler can’t seem to form words, eyes glazed. He opens and closes his mouth but nothing comes out.

“I think you can,” Jamie says. “Let’s see, okay?” He slams back in before Tyler can respond, finds his prostate, and begins to rub in unrelenting strokes. Back and forth, Tyler’s body clenching around his fingers, rippling velvet heat as Tyler twists and writhes, begging in broken sobs. Jamie doesn’t even slow down until Tyler goes rigid, every muscle seizing up as he spills untouched onto his chest on a strangled noise.

Jamie rides out the punishing tightness, gentling his strokes until the aftershocks ease. Then he pulls his hand out and lets Tyler’s legs down. “Tyler.” He crawls up Tyler’s limp frame. “Hey. Ty. Look at me.” He pats Tyler’s cheek with his clean hand until his eyes refocus and fix on Jamie’s. “There you are. You okay?”

“J-Jamie,” Tyler rasps.

“Yeah, baby,” Jamie says. “It’s me.”

“Jamie,” Tyler repeats. He closes his eyes. Jamie kisses the tears off his face, nuzzling along the line of his beard. Tyler is utterly still, the lines of his body soft as Jamie kisses him.

“So good for me,” he whispers. “I’m so proud of you. I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

Tyler’s eyes open. They’re hazy, clouded, and Jamie hesitates. Tyler licks his lips.

“Do it,” he slurs.

Jamie groans and rolls off the bed to strip with unsteady hands. Back on the bed, he goes to his knees between Tyler’s thighs. Slinging his legs over his shoulders, Jamie slicks himself up, hissing at the shocks that skitter up his spine. He lines up and presses forward, watching Tyler’s face. His eyes are closed again, his expression blissful, and he sighs as Jamie enters him, flexing his fingers uselessly in the cuffs.

He’s so tight, so hot around Jamie’s cock that Jamie’s horribly afraid he won’t be able to hold out. To distract himself, he swipes his hand through the mess on Tyler’s chest and grasps his shaft, still half-hard.

Tyler moans, tossing his head.

Jamie finds he’s able to hold off his orgasm by concentrating on the rhythm of coaxing Tyler back to hardness with slow, steady strokes. He feels every thrust deep in his gut but he forces himself not to speed up, to not chase the edge of his orgasm but instead focus on the way Tyler feels around him, the long line of his throat, his hair spread out on the pillow beneath his head. His eyes are closed, lids delicate and blue-veined. His mouth is slack, half-open and so sweet, and he’s utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful, so much more fragile than he lets on. Jamie can’t believe he’s _his,_ that he gets to have this, that he’s this lucky.

“I can’t—” Tyler whispers.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jamie asks, not slowing his hand or the thrust of his hips.

Tyler doesn’t answer and Jamie twists his wrist on an upstroke. That makes Tyler’s eyes fly open as he jerks, but still he doesn’t tell him to stop, so Jamie keeps going.

His thighs are protesting, but he’s done worse things to them for longer. He shifts his angle slightly, leaning forward so he can drive even deeper, and speeds up. Tyler’s fully hard again, shuddering as Jamie jerks him steadily. He’s crying again, silently this time, balls drawing up as he nears the edge.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” he sobs. “Jamie, please, _please—”_

Jamie is only human. It’s a miracle he’s made it this long. He presses his thumbnail against Tyler’s slit and drives deep as Tyler clamps down around him, spurting hot and slick over his fingers. Jamie’s orgasm hits him like a sledgehammer at the base of his spine and he comes on a shaky groan, feeling as though he’s being turned inside out and remade.

He collapses forward, face down on Tyler’s chest as he trembles through the last of the aftershocks. Tyler’s utterly still beneath him, breathing shallow and rapid.

Jamie forces himself up and unbuckles the cuffs, inspecting each wrist for bruising or scrapes. Tyler is clearly teetering on the edge of oblivion, head lolling as Jamie satisfies himself that he’s fine, there’s no damage.

Once he’s sure, he climbs off the bed and stumbles into the bathroom for wet washcloths. Tyler moans in protest as Jamie cleans him up in thorough, gentle strokes. When he’s done, he crawls back into the bed and gathers Tyler close.

Tyler’s body is loose and relaxed, movements slow like honey as he curls into Jamie’s warmth.

“Jamie,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, baby,” Jamie says, burying his nose in Tyler’s soft hair. “I’m here.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything else, and after a minute, Jamie realizes he’s fallen asleep. He kisses the crown of Tyler’s head, smiling. He feels like he’s pulled the lid off a box filled with amazing possibilities. He can’t _wait_ to explore some more of them.

**Author's Note:**

> [Don't look at me.](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Sweetener by Ariana Grande


End file.
